Mindoir
by Sargo
Summary: Shepard recounts his story to Liara after encountering a fellow colonist. Rated M for strong, graphic violence and course language.


A/N: This story takes place between ME1 and ME2. I changed some things slightly, so don't be surprised if things don't go down exactly how it did in the game. My Shepard is a colonist, so I decided to delve a bit into the 'I Remember Me' quest from ME1. In this particular story, Commander Taylor Shepard and Liara T'Soni are together. Anyways, this is my first story, so read it, review it, but, most of all, ENJOY it.

* * *

Liara stepped out of the elevator and into the CIC. Most of the crew had already left, as Shepard had given them either shore leave or duties to attend to. They were at the Citadel, after all, and the _Normandy_ needed supplies before the next assignment.

Shepard stood above the galaxy map directly ahead of her. She smiled to herself and started forward, intending to ask him if he wished to join her for a quiet dinner.

"She was from Mindoir?" His voice cut through the quiet and stopped Liara in her tracks. It took her a moment to realize that he was talking into his earpiece, so she only heard half the conversation. She watched as Shepard hunched over and gripped the side rails, his knuckles whitening.

"She _what_? Goddamnit, alright, don't do _anything_. I'll be right there." Shepard straightened and turned, facing Liara, who hadn't moved, had barely breathed. His dark brown eyes caught her light blue ones and held her in place. As she looked back, Liara saw that his eyes looked nearly black. The only time that happened was when Shepard became furious with something or someone. But there was not just fury. There was something else lurking in the dark depths.

"I-" His voice cracked. Actually cracked. Liara was stunned. She'd never seen Shepard's composure break. "I need to handle something." With that, he brushed past her and walked toward the airlock.

Liara suddenly regained her voice. "Wait! Shepard!" The airlock hissed open and Shepard was gone. Her shoulders sagged. _What had happened?_

Footsteps caught her attention. She turned around and came face to face with Ashley Williams, just coming off the elevator.

"Hey, you see the Skipper? Turns out we…" Ash trailed off as she took notice of Liara's posture. "What's wrong?"

"Taylor- the Commander-, he just rushed out," Liara waved her arm in the direction of the airlock. "He must have received an important call, something about Mindoir, I believe." She rubbed her forehead. "He seemed so angry, or- or _upset_? And I just stood here like an idiot!" Ash placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"Then go after him," she replied, slapping Liara's back lightly. "Come on, I'll come with you. I need to get some supplies anyway." Liara nodded faintly. Together, the two walked out of the CIC, through the airlock, and out onto the docking bay.

* * *

Leaning against a tall stack of crates, Liara watched from afar as Shepard talked to a young woman. From this distance, Liara could only make out the fact that she was bald, jumpy, and distressed. Shepard, still in his Alliance officer's clothes, stood in front of her. A little further down the docking bay, which was situated a short walk away from the _Normandy_, stood two C-SEC officers, one of whom was restlessly pacing.

Ash and Liara had exited the airlock just in time to see Shepard storming down the platforms, making him easy to follow. Liara had no doubt that he knew she was following; he was an N7, after all. The two women had stopped when Shepard confronted the two C-SEC officers before turning his attention to the woman cowering behind the crates. Ash had left not long after, leaving Liara alone to watch.

_I should have known it had something to do with Mindoir_, she wondered, with a sad shake of her head. During their melds together, Liara had noted that there were certain things that Shepard kept locked away deep in his mind. She first realized this after attempting to help Shepard to understand the Prothean beacon. At the time, she thought nothing of it. After Ilos, though…

During their Joining, their night, she had shared everything with Shepard. All of her had been right there, out in the open for him to see. She had expected him to do the same. It was not until after that night that she realized he had still kept part of himself hidden under lock and key, hidden away from her. When the realization had dawned on her, she was hurt. What did Shepard feel he could not share with her? Did he not trust her? Did he not love her enough to share it?

_Goddess, I was so selfish and so _wrong_,_ Liara cursed herself. After arriving aboard the _Normandy_, she had looked through Shepard's personnel file, mostly out of genuine curiosity. Most of the information was classified and not open to her. She did surprisingly have access to the information pertaining to his mission to Akuze, though that could not be the source of his walled off memories. During their first meld, while trying to understand the beacon, she had seen fleeting images of the men who'd died, of the terrifying thresher maws, the feelings of hopelessness, horror, grief, and anger. Whatever Shepard hid, it had nothing to do with Akuze.

After digging through his file, Liara had noticed that his birthplace was not listed. She brushed it off at the time, thinking nothing of it. It was not until after Virmire that Ash had told her that Shepard had been a 'colony kid' from some place called Mindoir. She had mentioned it in passing, and Liara didn't press for more information. At the time, it did not seem connected. Now, though, it all made sense. Something truly awful must have happened there, but she had no idea what. She had never bothered to check into the colony, never thought it was relevant to, well, anything. So now she waited. Waited for Shepard to return, for when she could talk to him, comfort him.

Liara gazed back to Shepard, who now stood with the young woman in his arms. He whispered something in her ear before gently placing her on the ground. She crossed her arms and continued to watch as he walked back to the C-SEC officers and spoke to them. They talked in low tones, too low for Liara to hear anything. Shepard nodded, shook the lead officer's hand, then started to make his way back to the _Normandy_. For a split second, Liara hesitated, nervous to step out from the crates to talk to Shepard. She silently cursed herself for being such a coward.

"Shepard." Liara spoke softly and stepped into the middle of the walkway, wringing her hands together. The entire area was practically deserted, leaving only her and Shepard. He stopped and looked upon her, but did not seem surprised in the slightest.

His face remained expressionless. "Liara," he replied, his voice low. Almost unconsciously, he shifted to parade rest, his hands clasped behind his back. _Why is he so formal? Why is he so upset?_

"Taylor, what is wrong?" Liara could not keep the pleading from her voice. She took a step forward. "What do you feel you cannot tell me, share with me?" She moved closer, her body less than a foot from his. Shepard's composure cracked for an instant.

"I-" he started, then stopped. He looked at the ground and brought his hands forward and held hers. "It's not that I don't trust you, Liara. Never that. It's just something that I locked away for as much my good as everyone else's." Bending forward slightly, he kissed her forehead. "I just need some time right now." Before she could respond, Shepard released her and continued to the _Normandy_. Left alone once more with her sorrow and anger and guilt, Liara hung her head.

* * *

Ash reappeared in the _Normandy's_ mess hall later that night. She had just finished loading supplies and wanted a cup of coffee before heading off to bed. Most of the crew had returned after hanging around the Citadel for the past few hours and were milling about, getting some coffee for themselves and talking. Stepping by some guys laughing about some joke, she spotted Liara sitting at one of the tables by herself. _Shit_, she groaned to herself.

She glanced at the coffee pot, so inviting with its tasty liquid just sitting inside, just waiting for someone to drink it. She shifted her gaze to Liara, isolated and depressed, staring at some miniscule speck on the table. She looked back to the coffee pot. It only had a little left.

"Shit," she grunted. Striding over, she pulled out a chair and plopped down in front of Liara. Startled, the asari jumped and looked up.

"Oh! Ashley, hello." She straightened her back and placed her hands on her lap, wringing them together. "I-uh-did you find what you needed?" Ashley smirked as she watched Liara nervously try to start a conversation. She'd gotten better at it, but not much. _Then again_, she considered, _she's not exactly all there right now_.

"What happened?" Ash asked, ignoring Liara's question. She didn't have to clarify what she was referring to.

Her back collapsed and she brought a hand up to rest her chin on. "I do not know. I have never seen him like this." She looked up at Ash with her startling blue eyes. "I do not know what to do. He refuses to talk to me."

"Well," Ash began, slightly unsure how to continue. Relationship advice was not exactly her specialty. "You need to understand that what happened must've been really traumatic for Shepard-"

"Wait, what?" Liara cut her off and held her with a surprisingly fiery intensity.

Her interjection startled Ash. "Mindoir, where Shepard was born, was hit by batarian slavers…" her voice faded as Liara's face transformed from one of genuine confusion to disbelief to horror. Ashley's stomach tightened. "You didn't know."

"No."

"Shit, Liara, I thought you knew." Ashley ran a hand through her hair. "After Virmire, and the fact that you looked through his file, I though you would've known. I'm sorry." Liara kept her eyes locked on Ashley's.

"How did you know? Does everyone?"

"No. Well, that might not be entirely true. Every human on this ship would know. The whole Mindoir incident was pretty big news. But I'm not sure how many know that Shepard actually came from there." She leaned back to get more comfortable. "I only know because I overheard Chakwas going over his psych profile." Liara remained quiet before abruptly standing, sending her chair into the wall.

"I need to go talk to him."

"Yeah, that would be best," Ashley mumbled as Liara damn near sprinted to the elevator. Exhausted, she rubbed her face and looked over at the coffee pot. It was empty.

"Damn it."

* * *

Shepard stared into the amber depths of his drink in his right hand. In his left he held an old, worn, wooden pipe, smoke faintly drifting up to the ceiling, only to be whisked away by the air purifiers. He sat on the edge of his bed and waited.

A ding rang through the air.

"Come in, Liara." Shepard took a sip of the whiskey, appreciating the burn with a slight grimace. The door hissed open and Liara walked in. Immediately he could tell she was distressed. She stood near his desk with the console, nervously twisting her hands.

"Shepard, I had no idea what had happened," she began, her gaze shifting from the floor to him then to the wall. "I am sorry if I offended you by prying, I," she locked eyes with him, "only wish to help."

He offered a sad smile and carefully balanced the glass on the bed, running his free hand through his short reddish-brown hair. "How did you find out?"

"Ashley told me only what she overheard from Dr. Chakwas." Taylor barked a short and harsh laugh.

"Guess I'll yell at her later." Liara remained quiet, letting the silence envelop them. Shepard raised the pipe to his mouth and puffed the smoke up at the purifier. The silence pervaded.

"Taylor, if you wish for me to leave-"

"No." Shepard internally winced, the word coming out too harshly and abruptly. "No," he repeated, softer. He raised the glass and took another sip. "I just- I don't know how to say it."

Liara stepped forward, standing just in front of him. "Then _show_ me," she urged.

"_No_." Shepard stared up at her. "I won't subject myself, or _you,_ to that. Not now, not ever. It isn't something I ever want to relive, or make you witness." Liara sank into a nearby chair. Though anxious to hear what Shepard had to say, she could not help but feel slightly elated as to his reasons for hiding it from her. He wanted to protect her as much as himself.

"I'm sorry if that makes me look like a coward, but that's the truth." Shepard stared at the wall and held the glass to his lips.

"Taylor, I would never think that. Never." Liara spoke softly and soothingly. Shepard smiled again and drained the glass. The two of them fell silent again.

"My father used to drink," Shepard began after a long moment. "He always enjoyed a stiff drink after a long day at work on the farm. Mindoir was, after all, a farming colony. There were a few times, if I had time and helped him out in the field, where he'd let me have a drink, too." A smile crept across his face. "My mother chewed him out for it more than once. And my younger brother got jealous more than once." Liara felt herself smile at the thought of Taylor drinking as a boy with his father. It was a sweet image.

"When I was fifteen, the Alliance issued warnings to the colonies about possible batarian raids. I didn't really understand at the time, but it drove my father, John, to teach me how to handle a pistol. He had this old one stored at the bottom of his closet and he taught me and my brother, Ben, how to use it." Shepard surprised himself at how easily the words just tumbled out. "My mother wasn't too happy, but she didn't put a stop to it either."

He paused and took a long drag from his pipe. Liara had never seen him smoke, but she found herself enjoying the smell.

"Summers on Mindoir could be insufferably hot. It made working in the fields all day a torture. For some reason, a few weeks before I turned seventeen, I volunteered to help my dad out in the fields. God only knows _why_," Shepard chuckled. "Hours later, sweating buckets and drenching my shirt, I went inside to cool off and relax. It wasn't much later that I heard the engines."

* * *

_Taylor walked inside the house and yanked- or rather peeled- his wet shirt off his body. Working out in the fields on a summer day usually ended with a drenched shirt. _Well, maybe dad'll give me a drink for my troubles_. _

_ Jogging up the stairs to the kitchen, Taylor pulled the fridge door open and pulled out a bottle of water, draining the entire thing in a few gulps. Standing by the kitchen window, he glanced out and saw his dad still working away. He was not envious. _

_ With not much else to do, he walked back down the stairs to the family console on the first floor. _Maybe Mike can hang out_, he thought. While waiting for the old thing to boot up, Taylor leaned back in the chair, not caring that his sweat would dampen the back of it. He watched the outdoors, the long rows of crops that he and his father cared for, the rolling hills beyond, and the late afternoon sun giving everything a rich, warm coloring. He loved the outdoors. Birds chirped and flew through the sky and Taylor closed his eyes, content to just listen and relax, a nice breeze blowing through the open door beside him. _

_ An unnatural roar screamed through the air._

_ Taylor's eyes snapped open and he sat up, startled. He stood and watched out the door. Up above, in the clear sky, he counted six shuttles circling the field. _What the hell?

_His stomach knotted with uncertainty as he watched four fly off, the remaining two landing in the center of the field. His father stood still, about fifty feet from the door, watching intently._

_ "Dad?" Taylor called._

_ "Quiet!" His father answered, nervousness creeping into his voice. _Something is definitely wrong…

_One of the shuttles opened and a group of eight people stepped out. At this distance, Taylor couldn't quite make out who- or what- they were. _

_ The group of them began running for the house._

_ "TAYLOR, GET OUT NOW!" His father's voice cracked through the air like a whip. That uncertainty was turning into terror. He started pacing backward and watched as his father turned and began running for the door._

_ He covered the distance in seconds. John Shepard stood before him, tension and terror clear upon his face._

_ "Taylor, move! We need to leave no-" Blood and bone and brain erupted and splattered Taylor's face and chest. The booming gunshot didn't even register in his head. Wide-eyed and frozen, he watched as his father's body crumpled to the floor, a hole nearly the size of his fist where his right eye should have been._

_ "What-" Shouts. Ringing. _WHAT DO I DO_? As if moving in slow motion, Taylor looked up and saw the group now only fifty feet away. His mind slowly put the connection together. They were batarians. Batarians. Raiders and slavers. _Oh God_._

_ One of them spoke, his voice harsh and alien, raising what looked like a launcher of some sort. It was aimed at _him_. _

_ Without actually thinking, Taylor instinctively lunged to the side, crashing into the wall as a net that looked electrified flew through the door and slammed into the far wall, knocking down pictures. Glass shattered and scattered across the wood floor. He could hear footsteps as they ran for the door._

Oh God_._

_ Leaping to his feet, Taylor sprinted up the stairs. He paused for a split second at the front door. Fast as lightening, he weighed his options. _Out the door? Upstairs? I need that gun.

_He continued up and turned left, charging down the hall and hurled himself into his parents' bedroom. Practically tearing the door off its hinges, he threw the closet open and yanked the chest out. Fingers fumbling, he tried putting the combination in. The footsteps grew louder. He fucked it up. _SHIT_. Voices and stomps grew louder. Laughter. WHAT WAS THE FUCKING COMBINATION? _

_ They were just out in the hall, laughing. More sweat dripped down his face, his back, his chest, mixing with the blood, his _father's_ blood._

_ The case clicked open. In a fluid motion, Taylor snatched the pistol up, flicked off the safety, and snapped around. A batarian stared back at him, all four eyes watching him, peeling through his skin. His gun pointed at the floor, hanging in one hand by his side. Standing in the doorway, he blocked his companions._

_ Taylor didn't move. He barely breathed. He was pointing a goddamn pistol at a batarian, a fucking _slaver_. An alien voice spoke out from the hall. The batarian in front of him snapped at him, not taking his eyes off Taylor. _

_ A breeze caressed his bare back._

_ Motion caught his attention. In slow motion, the batarian brought his gun up. All that time practicing paid off. His finger pulled, the pistol kicked, and the batarian's head snapped back, blood spattering the wall. Before the body fell, Taylor twisted and vaulted himself out the open window behind him, falling twenty feet into the shrubs lining his house. The branches and pointed leaves scratched and stung, but saved him some broken bones. The wind knocked out of him, he forced himself up, wheezing. The batarians were yelling and stomping around. Taylor didn't stop to look up. Instead, he sprinted to the front of the house, moving faster than he had ever thought possible for a human. The family car was gone._

_ The realization stunned him, leaving him frozen. _Ben and Mom_. His mom had left not long ago to go pick up Ben, his seven year old brother, from a friend's house. In the center of the colony, away from the farms. He had to get to them, had to help them, had to do _something_. He continued his sprint and angled himself towards the woods, away from the road. He ran and ran for a long time, though he never slowed, never paused. He felt as though he was flying. Every limb felt feather light, he didn't have to look at the ground to see where he placed his feet. He just _knew_ where to put them. _

_ As he neared the colony center, screams and shouts and gunfire hammered his ears. He came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the woods and watched as dozens, maybe even hundreds, of batarians shot and captured the colonists. His friends. His family. His community. He pushed his slick hair back from his forehead, chest heaving yet tightening, and not just from the exertion of his sprint. _What do I do_?_

_ He broke into a sprint._

_ Moving even faster than before, he flew through the buildings toward Carl's house, the kid his brother had been hanging out with. He avoided the main road and kept to the backs of buildings. Even so, he had to leap over three bodies mutilated by bullets. He didn't stop to see who they were, he couldn't stop. He had to get to his family, had to help them. _

_Carl's house lay on the edge of the center, thankfully. By avoiding the main road, Taylor managed to remain hidden from the batarians raiding the buildings. He could hear them catching people, but he couldn't stop. _

_He finally found Carl's house. Shaking with exhaustion, Taylor stood in front of the open door. Immediately, he knew what happened. There was a feel, a tension in the air that stabbed into his gut like a rusty knife and twisted. But he had to go in. He knew he had to. He had to be sure. Checking over his shoulder to make sure the batarians weren't nearby, he slowly stepped into the house. _

_Scorch-marks scarred the walls, furniture had been overturned, pictures shattered and strewn across the floor. The living room window had shattered, splinters of glass blanketing the floor. Carl's mother lay dead in the house's living room. Behind her, half underneath her lay Carl, his small body twisted and torn by gunfire. Numb, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Taylor continued through the quickly darkening house. He followed the narrow and claustrophobic hallway into the kitchen. The back door had been kicked open by a batarian boot. His mother and brother lay motionless on the ground, entwined in each other's arms, bullet holes marking their entire bodies. _

_The vomit came without warning and Taylor found himself emptying his stomach into the sink. Dry heaves followed, cramping his stomach painfully. _

_He sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face, adding to the mix of sweat and blood that coated his entire face and torso. _

_Crawling toward his massacred family, he stroked his brother's hair, touched his mother's still warm skin. Hot tears dripped off his nose and landed on their lifeless bodies. Grief clawed at his entire being and all he wanted was to cry out in bitter agony. But he couldn't. They might hear him. The batarians. Those _**fuckers**_. A fury so strong and so powerful gripped his very essence, its fiery claws tearing him. He wanted to rip them apart. Make them _**suffer**_._

_An alien voice denoting surprise snapped him out of his trance. He swiveled and looked at the back door. A batarian stood there stupidly, a look of surprise covering his face. It was as if some divine being had decided to bless Taylor._

_Animal instinct took over. A bloodcurdling cry erupted from his black maw of a mouth as he threw himself and all his strength into the batarian. Baffled and confused, the alien tumbled down the back steps and onto the grass, the human straddling him. His left hand pinned the batarian by the neck, closing off his airway. All four eyes bulged. His right hand gripped the pistol. He brought the butt of the pistol down. Hard. Bone snapped and blood sprayed. The batarian would have screamed, if he could. The cold, hard metal came down again and again and again. As his bones were shattered, the batarian watched those two eyes, even colder and harder than the metal breaking him._

_It wasn't until his arm became almost too sore to lift and his hand began cramping that Taylor finally stopped, his chest heaving, his heart hammering, his ears pounding. He leaned back and looked down at the batarian. The face was swollen and twisted and broken. Blood oozed from gashes and cuts and soaked the grass. He was unrecognizable. _

_Shakily, Taylor stood. He wiped his face and hair, only to realize it was even slicker from the crimson spray of the batarian. _Oh God_._

_Harsh voices and heavy boots rang out from the street and nearby houses. He had to leave. Now. _

_Still wearing nothing but his boots and shorts, Taylor ran from the house, from his brother and mother and from the mutilated slaver. He ran into the darkening woods and kept going until he reached an open field. Spotting a hill, he sprinted through the grass, charged up the hill, and vaulted over the mound, sliding halfway down. When his descent stopped, he sobbed until sleep took over._

* * *

"I stayed on that hill through the night, the next day, and that night. An entire day on that damn hill, alone, terrified, exhausted, and starving. And sunburnt," he added bitterly. He had refilled his glass some time before and gulped it down. "The morning after the second night is when they found me, huddled, red-eyed, and red skinned, thanks to the sun, my father, and the batarian." He looked over at Liara, who hadn't made a sound the entire time. He noticed that her eyes were wet. His weren't. What did that make him?

"They told me they had tried to get through, but the batarians managed to hold them off. Over the course of day and a half, they managed to kill or capture every single colonist. Except me." He walked over to the bar and put his drink down, intending to refill it. "Not me. I escaped. Managed to survive. Got picked up by some Alliance patrol." He fell silent. In a flash of raw emotion, he punched the surface of the bar. "I lost everyone and everything I had ever known that day. My family, my friends, my childhood, _everything_. I was broken for a long time, but I somehow managed to put myself back together. Joined the Alliance, eventually became an N7. Akuze fucked with me, but I managed to choke it all down. Again. And then," he rubbed the back of his neck and gripped the edge of the bar tightly. "And then Talitha shows up. I don't remember her, probably never met her. But she survived what I escaped. She brought all this back," he waved helplessly and stared at the wall. "Brought all this shit back up." He hung his head. He heard Liara get up and cross the room. Felt her weave her arms under his and hold him, felt her rest her cheek on his back, between his shoulders.

"I can barely remember my brother," he whispered. "Ben was seven when he died. When he was murdered. When I think of that day, when I dream of that day, I don't think of my brother. I don't think of discovering my mother. I think of how I _beat_ that batarian to death." He spat the word out, as if saying it burned his tongue. "It scared me then and scares me now, knowing how savagely I murdered him." Liara's grip tightened.

"I've killed a lot of people. But he's the only one I murdered." He closed his eyes. "And he's the one I remember. The one that haunted my dreams for so long. I buried those memories so I wouldn't have to face the guilt. The anger. The sadness. The _helplessness_." He rubbed Liara's arm with his hand, savoring the softness of her skin, the warmth she emanated.

"That's why I locked it all away. So it wouldn't hurt all the time. And it worked. But Talitha brought it back." He shifted and faced Liara. "I just wasn't ready to face it all again, so abruptly. I'll never be fine, but I've gotten passed it." He and Liara stood together in that embrace for a long while.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured into his chest.

He bent his head and rested his forehead against hers.

"So am I."

Together, they crossed over to the bed and lay down. As they lay together, Liara realized where Shepard had gotten the sheer determination and strength to do anything. He survived horrors as a boy and as a soldier and made it through. He had been able to beat Saren and stop Sovereign because of it.

The scars would never fade, but he had learned to live with them. And that was good enough.


End file.
